


Never go to bed angry

by Yesilian



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, I think?, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 21:48:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14174091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yesilian/pseuds/Yesilian
Summary: Never go to bed angry - or your flatmate will wake you up in the middle of the night to settle that argument.





	Never go to bed angry

**Author's Note:**

> Cleaning out my Google Drive. I've a million unfinished stories there, because S4 slaughtered my muse, then pissed on its pathetic remains. So I'm publishing this as a tiny one-shot.

"I don't like when you're angry with me." Sherlock's sulk was audible so John didn't need to turn around. Also, because he was rudely awakened by Sherlock's sudden and extremely unexpected presence in his bed. Maybe this was a dream, and dreams are not worth turning around for.

"Then don't do stupid things," John murmured despite not knowing if the other man in his bed was real. "There's a thought for you." The man behind John hummed boredly.

"Define stupid," he said. With every passing second John woke up more and he tried to wrap his head around Sherlock's presence. This was a first. Sherlock never came to John's bed, which you wouldn't know by the way he appropriated part of John's duvet or how at home he seemed to feel. It was a bit surreal. He laughed.

"What are you doing here?" he asked and turned his head for the first time. Sherlock was definitely not a dream. 

"I'm tired," Sherlock explained as if that was an explanation.

"Yeah, no, I get why you would go to bed when you're tired. I don't get why you would use mine instead of your own or why you had to wake me up just so that you could sleep."

"Because you were angry with me." It was palpable how much Sherlock thought it should be obvious to John. The thing was, John knew that Sherlock's brain worked in different  and certainly mysterious ways and that he was not being obtuse on purpose, but it didn't mean it didn't frustrate him to pieces. So he just sighed.

"Keep explaining," he said in what was his most patient voice. Sherlock's resultant sigh was less patient.

"My father always said, you shouldn't go to bed angry because you don't want to wake up angry. Granted, he always meant me being angry at Mycroft for not assisting me in my experiments, but I thought the sentiment was transferable. So here I am. Trying to resolve my anger."

"What the hell have you got to be angry about?" John tried to keep calm, but it was getting increasingly difficult. "It wasn't me who destroyed 50 pounds worth of food because he couldn't be bothered to find another place to store his bloody intestines!"

"Those weren't my intestines."

"Well, not literally, no."

Both men's breathing was noticeably more laboured now, and while John could appreciate the tip and agreed that going to bed angry was bad, he felt his almost entirely deflated anger roar back to life now. It was getting worse.

"I am a scientist," Sherlock started.

"You're a fucking nuisance, is what you are," John interrupted and that shut Sherlock up before he even got really started. It was his hurt that was palpable now and obviously, John felt bad about being the cause of that. He turned around fully so that he was facing Sherlock, who was turning on his back at the same time. Very gently John reached out for his arm and touched his fingers to the naked skin above Sherlock's elbow.

"If we got a second fridge," he started calmly. Immediately Sherlock's head shot around and even in the dark of the night John could tell his eyes were gleaming, so obviously he had to stop whatever the other man was thinking. "Which would only ever be for food," Sherlock moaned in disappointment, "would you promise me to leave it be?" Sherlock only shrugged which wasn't good enough. 

"No, you have to promise me," John insisted. "And in return I'll promise I won't mind what you put into the old fridge, as long as you clean it out at least weekly."

"Bi-weekly," Sherlock bargained.

"Twice a week? Deal!" John said good-naturedly and clapped Sherlock's arm as if it was a hand and they were shaking on it.

"That's not what I meant."

"Well, too late, we've already agreed to the terms of the deal. So sorry." John wasn't, really, and made no effort to hide it and instead hoped his good humour would cheer Sherlock up a bit, make him forget the earlier insult. John so often did that. Yes, he was angry and yes, he had a very short temper, and so yes, he shouted at people or insulted them. He never meant it. At least not when it came to Sherlock, who was, for all intents and purposes, the most important person in his life and John lived in fear of losing him. And if he lost him because of his temper, he'd never be able to forgive himself. It worked this time as Sherlock gave him the beginning of a smile.

"We don't have enough room for another fridge," he said in a way that made John almost forget that he had never cared about any of that before.

"We'll make room."

For a while, they were both quiet and after that, when the topic was truly over, they both got arranged comfortably for sleep.

"You know I'll still play with you tomorrow even if I go to bed angry, right?" John asked into the quiet.

"Shut up, John," Sherlock muttered and John laughed into his pillow.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Come and be friends on [Tumblr](http://yesilian.tumblr.com/), where I reblog other people's genius!


End file.
